


Alleviate

by Terminallydepraved



Series: Works for Others [62]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Comeplay, Creampie, Dirty Talk, Fluff and Smut, Gangbang, M/M, Miscommunication, Size Difference, Some Humor, The Most Casual Gangbang You'll Probably Ever Read
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-02
Updated: 2020-03-02
Packaged: 2021-02-27 20:00:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22981393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Terminallydepraved/pseuds/Terminallydepraved
Summary: There was a beat of silence. Paz chuckled deep in his chest and looked down the hall, off into the shadows that failed to give way to the glow bleeding off the forge to their backs. “So uptight, Djarin. You’re wound up. Distrusting your brother in arms.”“And?” Every word coming from Paz threatened to wind him tighter. His hands curled into fists on his knees, his muscles protesting the sudden bunching. He’d been on too many jobs, not enough rest in between.Paz swiveled his head around, smoothly bringing his attention back to Din and Din alone. “You need an outlet.” He held out a hand expectantly. “Come. Let me give you one.”
Relationships: The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Original Male Character(s), The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)/Paz Vizla
Series: Works for Others [62]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/378145
Comments: 25
Kudos: 283





	Alleviate

**Author's Note:**

> so my dear friend linden and i have been feral over this concept since we watched the show and since its kinda my habit to write a massive gangbang each time i enter a new fandom i figured why not? hope yall enjoy this and our OC mandalorians we made for this! if yall like them linden said shed probably twist my arm into writing more content of them, so feel free to leave comments if youd like to see that happen. enjoy!

Din Djarin stood just outside the Armorer’s forge, schooled patience bleeding closer to impatience with every peal of the hammer striking hot metal. His fingers drummed against his upper arms, his boot fighting the urge to tap, tap, tap the minutes away as he waited for the hammer to stop striking. Quality armor took time. He knew that. 

The sound of his sigh crackled like static through the modulator on his helmet. He slid down the wall, back pressed against it, and sank into a low, loose crouch, arms crossed over his knees. The position tugged at his hamstrings, eliciting a slight soreness that felt acceptable given how he spent his past week. Too much running, too much hiding— that was definitely the last time he took a job in that quadrant. 

Of course, even if the blaster-fire hadn’t demolished his latest set of armor, the terrible intel and even worse payout would’ve been argument enough for him. He’d taken two shots straight to the chest, one to the thigh, and then one to the shoulder that nearly wasn’t stopped by the armor. His hand rose to rub the spot in question. He winced despite the tender touch. 

“I gotta get me some better armor,” he muttered. Something solid, something sturdy. Duristeel maybe. 

The sound of footsteps stole him away from his thoughts. Din lifted his head and looked down the dark hall, the hulking figure of a Mandalorian emerging from the darkness. Din narrowed his eyes when he caught sight of the sigil on the figure’s blue-tinted pauldron.

“Great,” he said under his breath, slowly rising back onto his feet. His thighs burned with the effort, but he knew better than to be caught on the ground like a child around Paz Vizla. This was just what he needed today. 

The footsteps slowed. Paz came to a stop in front of him. “The prodigal son returns,” he said, voice low, echoing slightly through the modulator on his helmet. “Fancy that.”

Paz towered over him, bulky, intimidating. Or would be, if Din hadn’t grown used to the way he loomed every time they deigned to speak. Which wasn’t often; Din didn’t spend much time here in Nevarro. The jobs off-planet were too profitable to put local gigs first, and with the Razor Crest it just made more sense. 

“I’m just here to have some armor repaired,” Din answered briskly. He didn’t have the patience to play nice with Paz right now. In a show of disdain—or maybe just disregard for his own safety—he slid down the wall and curled into a loose sprawl once more. “I’ll be gone as soon as it’s completed.”

“Heh. Of course.” Paz looked him over, lingering on the portions of his body missing their usual plates of armor. Din shifted, crossing his arms. He hadn’t felt that uncomfortable before, but now that Paz was here, looking him over from head to toe, the real lack of coverage became obvious. “You come here often for that. Beskar would hold up better. You should think about getting an upgrade.”

Din rolled his eyes. “Thanks for the suggestion.” As if it were so easy to get ahold of. He ran his gaze along Paz’s set. Such a heavy set, it would have taken ages to gather materials alone. Paz was lucky that he wasn’t a foundling. He had his clan to help build him his armor. For a foundling, things weren’t quite so easy. One depended on charity to get started, then luck. Din looked away. “I’ll get right on that.” 

Despite the dismissive tone, Paz seemed in no rush to be on his way. He looked into the room behind Din, taking in the Armorer at work. The steady, sonorous peal of her hammer was more accurate than a metronome, hammering away at whatever blend of sub-par metals he’d managed to afford this time around. She’d do wonders with it as she always did, but even her skill level couldn’t fully keep out the blaster-fire. 

The thought was so demoralizing that it took Din a solid minute or two to realize that Paz hadn’t left. Din frowned. “Is there something you need with her?” he guessed. She’d assured him that she had no other pressing engagements for the afternoon, but things happened. Armor broke. 

“Not particularly,” Paz said slowly, turning away from the forge to look at Din instead. His helmet cocked to the side slightly, inquisitive and probing. “Her work may take hours.”

“Yes,” Din said just as slowly, narrowing his eyes. 

“You plan to sit here until then.” A statement. Not a question. 

“I have no other business here,” Din returned carefully, edging around the conversation the way he might a particularly precarious perimeter. Speaking to Paz could be as volatile as walking on landmines. He’d learned from an early age to tread carefully around the man’s sense of honor and tradition, to avoid setting him off before he’d learned how to dodge the swing of a punch aimed for his stomach. Such things didn’t come nearly as often these days, but it was always better to be safe than sorry. “Why do you ask?” Din tensed. Especially when the bulk of his armor sat buried in the depths of the forge, far away and less than useless to him in its current state. 

There was a beat of silence. Paz chuckled deep in his chest and looked down the hall, off into the shadows that failed to give way to the glow bleeding off the forge to their backs. “So uptight, Djarin. You’re wound up. Distrusting your brother in arms.”

“And?” Every word coming from Paz threatened to wind him tighter. His hands curled into fists on his knees, his muscles protesting the sudden bunching. He’d been on too many jobs, not enough rest in between. 

Paz swiveled his head around, smoothly bringing his attention back to Din and Din alone. “You need an outlet.” He held out a hand expectantly. “Come. Let me give you one.”

Din stared at Paz’s outstretched hand the way he would a rogue mudhorn. “Why?” he demanded, making no move to take it. “What do you get out of that?”

A shrug. “A distraction? Or perhaps it’s just been so long since I’ve thrown you on your back that the memory could use refreshing.” Paz curled his fingers emphatically, chuckling low and deep within his chest. “Have you got something better to do, Din Djarin?”

He didn’t, but that really wasn’t the problem here. Since when did Paz Vizla of all people ask to spar with him? To say their relationship was strained would be putting it lightly, but then again, maybe that was the reason. Perhaps Paz was extending an olive branch, seeking to find a way to bridge the gap between them… 

Or maybe he just wanted an excuse to throw Din through a wall. One that wouldn’t get them both yelled at by the elders for infighting. 

Din narrowed his eyes and reached for Paz’s hand. If he thought he’d find him an easy target like when they were younger, he’d be in for a surprise. “Fine,” Din said, allowing the large Mandalorian to drag him to his feet. It only smarted a little at how easily he managed to do it. Paz’s hand threatened to swallow his own, so Din dropped it as soon as he possibly could. “Where did you have in mind?”

Paz chuckled and nodded down the hall. “There are empty rooms further in. Pick one and I’ll meet you there.”

“Where are you going?” Din asked suspiciously. 

Paz just waved his hand, heading in the opposite direction. “Just pick a room, Djarin,” he called out, every heavy boot hitting the earth in time to the Armorer’s hammer-falls. “This won’t take long.”

“What the hell was that?” Din muttered under his breath, watching as Paz turned a corner and disappeared into the depths of their hideout. They were just going to spar, so how much more could they need between them? Din shook his head and glanced into the forge. The Armorer looked no closer to finishing than she had an hour ago. Din sighed. He really didn’t have many options here. If he had to choose, at least putting Paz in his place sounded more productive than sitting on the ground.

With that line of thought to bolster his resolve, Din set off down the hall towards the empty rooms Paz spoke about before. This deep in the compound, most of the rooms were barren, unused. Din made sure to knock before venturing his head inside, but of every door he tried, all were lifeless, empty. Their numbers weren’t great, hadn’t been in quite some time, but the remnants of their once-bustling tribe lingered in the dusty alcoves. Some of the rooms held rusted weapons or broken relics, memories of a bygone age lost to them decades ago. Others, old toys, furniture, and the residual belongings of homes that hadn’t stood whole in longer than Din could remember. 

Din left those sepulchral spaces to their festering. Their owners were long gone but that didn’t make trespassing any less uncomfortable. He said a quiet prayer beneath his breath as he closed the doors before moving on to the next. 

Before long he found one barren of memories or dusty weight. “As good a choice as any,” he said to himself, closing the door behind him. It was of a decent size, spacious for what it was but still just shy of being a large enough space for a proper, all-out spar. He took in the low ceiling and made a mental note to utilize Paz’s height against him. The man was definitely stronger, but you didn’t need to be strong when you had speed and mobility on your side. 

He was in the middle of stretching when the door behind him decided to open. Din turned and glanced over his shoulder, only to be forced to do a double-take when two more bodies streamed in behind Paz. The low conversation they’d been having as they entered stopped as soon as they all met eyes. 

“Paz,” Din said slowly, rising out of his low stance to brace himself for whatever this was meant to be. “What is the meaning of this?”

Paz waved a dismissive hand and walked further into the room. He moved past Din and looked around, cataloging the dimensions and testing the hardness of the packed dirt beneath their feet. “Get acquainted,” he said simply, gesturing towards the two Mandalorians he’d brought with him. “You could use more friends, Djarin. Appreciate the gesture.”

Knowing what sort of gesture this was meant to be would have done Din much more good than dropping him in the thick of it. He let out a low sigh and turned to assess the others. 

To his surprise, Din recognized the one wearing a set of green armor immediately. Vox Coda. They were of an age and had taken the Oath around the same time, training together, playing together, and fighting together once they were deemed strong enough to put aside pretend blasters and pick up real ones. It’d been awhile since Din last saw him in person though. The aura he gave off now was infinitely different from the one he’d had when they were children. Din inclined his head but got nothing in return. 

“Vox,” he said in greeting, thinking maybe the man hadn’t noticed. “It’s been awhile.”

Vox stayed silent, merely looking at him with what felt like renewed focus. The Mandalorian beside him clapped Vox on the shoulder and laughed. “Don’t mind him. He doesn’t really talk much these days.”

Din frowned. The Vox of his memories was one who laughed often and talked to anyone who’d listen to him. The silence was as unsettling as this man’s joviality. “And what is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means what I said.” The man squeezed Vox’s shoulder and crossed his arms loosely. “Shit happens in the field. Scars strike where they strike.” Helmet dipping to angle towards Vox, the man let out a quiet sigh. “I do enough talking for the both of us though. Don’t take it personally if you get sick of it.”

“And you will get sick of it. This is Xets Totau, by the way,” Paz introduced plainly, nodding towards the other Mandalorian. His armor was different than most, more segmented and patchwork in color. The base was a dark, scuffed brown, but the accents varied on the pauldrons and cuirass. Dark navy here, rust red there. Din’s eyes were drawn to cuirass most where three black circles took up occupancy dead center on the man’s chest. They almost looked like a target. Strange. He’d seen emblems like that before with sniper specialists, but never in that placement. “It figures that he’d talk more about Vox than himself. Good manners as always.”

“Din Djarin,” Din answered slowly, a little unsettled by the idea of a sniper with a target emblazoned over his heart. It spoke to either cockiness or suicidal leanings. Neither inspired confidence at this close distance. He looked at Paz carefully. “I thought we were going to spar,” he said quietly, wondering if maybe this hadn’t been some kind of ruse to get him alone and away from the Armorer’s watchful eye. “Not meet a few of your friends.”

Xets leaned forward, hands on his hips. “Oh, come on, Djarin,” he wheedled, voice raspy and bouncing like a lilting breeze. “The more the merrier, right?”

“That hasn’t been my experience when it comes to a fight,” Din replied dryly. 

Xets cocked his head to the side. A grin. “Then you aren’t having the right kind.”

Din’s unease only mounted when Paz came up behind him, the solid wall of his chest a physical barrier that kept him from taking a step backwards. Din looked up, startled, and Xets let out a quiet laugh. “Did you tell him this was going to be a sparring session, Vizla? That’s cruel, even for you.”

“What are you talking about?” Din demanded, digging his shoulder into Paz’s armored chest. It didn’t even budge the man, and with his own pauldrons off in the Armorer’s forge, he knew he’d bruise himself if he kept trying. 

Paz held his hands up and snorted. “I said nothing of the sort. He came to his own conclusions.” He glanced towards Din. “Didn’t you?”

“You said I needed to let loose,” Din retorted coldly. “You offered to help.”

“Oh,” Xets chuckled, resting his arm on Vox’s steady shoulder. “So, he’s the one who made a tactical error.”

What error? Din looked between the two of them for answers, but it seemed that the beauty of the inside joke was too precious to let go of just yet. Din balled his hands into fists at his sides. “I’m leaving,” he said firmly, moving towards the door. If they had intended to humiliate him, he wouldn’t just stand here and make it easier on them— 

A hand seized him by the shoulder, halting him before he could make it more than two steps towards the door. Din reacted instantly, grabbing Paz's wrist and ripping his hand away, his body shifting into a defensive stance instinctively. He didn’t have his armor to protect him, but he wasn’t defenseless. He bared his teeth behind his helmet. “Don’t,” he snarled.

Paz, to his shock, relented quickly. He raised his hands in a conciliatory manner, shaking his head as he sighed. “Would you calm down?” he muttered. “We aren’t trying to jump you, Djarin.”

“Then what is the meaning of this?”

Xets let out a half-stifled snort. The clang of beskar hitting beskar sounded next, followed by a low huff. Din didn’t dare take his eyes off Paz, but he could infer well enough what had happened. Vox may not speak anymore, but he still had opinions. Ones he wasn’t afraid of making known, especially if it involved Xets running his mouth. 

Din kept his glare on Paz. “I’m waiting.” 

Paz lowered his hands, crossing his arms in front of his chest. “You said it yourself already,” he answered stiffly. “I offered stress relief. You seemed interested.”

Nothing about this situation constituted stress relief. In fact, Din was feeling markedly  _ more  _ stressed the longer this dragged on. 

“But, I guess you’re so uptight that the obvious didn’t occur to you. We,” Paz intoned, gesturing at himself and then the two Mandalorians nearest to the door, “are bored. Pent-up. Stress relief can come from more than just a fight.” Paz spoke slowly, almost as if he were spelling it out to a simpleton. He snorted too for good measure. “The only one with violence on their mind is you. That is,” he said, his voice taking on the quality of a leer, “unless you’d prefer something a little more exciting when you’re given the opportunity to get off with a few of your clanmates.”

Din’s thoughts screeched to a halt. This was… He was implying— No. No, he couldn’t be… Din’s face burned beneath his helmet. Voice catching in his throat, he croaked, “That’s…”

The concept wasn’t… wholly shocking. Din had heard more than his fair share about the things done in the shadows, the seeking out of comfort and relief in one’s fellow Mandalorians so as to not risk oneself with an outsider. Sex was compromising. It could be deadly. Their way of life didn’t allow trust to grow easily away from their compound’s walls. Taking pleasure with one of the Creed was safer. Better. 

However, with that said, Din had never before been invited to join in. Ever. 

Xets nudged Vox’s thick arm. “Think there’s still time to put credits on this? Fifty says Paz’s piss-poor diplomacy skills gets us all left out to dry.”

Paz ignored the backseat commentary. Din kind of wished he wouldn’t; the man refused to look away from him, the dark visor of his helmet intently locked on Din and Din alone. “So?” came his deep voice, loaded with intent and only mildly decaying patience. He took a single step closer and Din matched it automatically, maintaining the space between them. Paz let out a quiet huff. “Does this change things or should we see you out?”

“I…” There were too many things running through Din’s mind to come up with any sort of coherent opinion on the matter. The thought was… exhilarating, but the timing was still suspect. Or was it? Din had been off Nevarro for awhile. He’d associated with his fellow Mandalorians sparingly, and Paz almost never since their argumentative youth. If they had truly wanted to harm him, wouldn’t they have kept up the sparring excuse? They wouldn’t have framed it this way. Not when he was already lacking armor.

Din quickly scanned Vox and Xets, turning his head only the barest of an inch to keep Paz as the main object of his focus. The two of them were standing, one patient while the other shifted his weight from one foot to the other, blood up and raring to  _ move.  _ How had Paz even convinced them to join him with this kind of plan? His reputation must have changed while he was away.

Licking his lips, mouth suddenly dry, Din let out a quiet breath. “What do you have in mind?” he asked, prickles of sweat beading on his forehead even as the words left his mouth. Kriff, he was really considering it. He tightened his hands into fists and crossed his arms in front of his chest. “I’m… confused.”

Xets snorted. “Do we need to draw him a diagram?”

Din looked over just in time to see Vox ram a heavy elbow into the space just below Xets’ cuirass edge. The impact was dull but effective. Xets swore and doubled over, and Paz took another step forward. “Nothing extreme,” he said, cocking his helmet curiously when Din didn’t bother backing away this time. “We’d work you hard. Help you burn off some of that attitude.”

Din’s heartbeat ticked a little faster. He had to crane his head back to maintain eye contact. “Why?”

Paz lifted a hand and settled it on Din’s waist. Din froze— and then stifled a dismayed noise when he realized just how much of his body Paz was capable of covering with just one gauntleted hand. The Mandalorian’s helmeted head dipped low, pausing to tap lightly against Din’s. “Why not?” came the low, heated reply. “Seems as good a time as any, and you’re already conveniently underdressed.” 

The tip of Paz’s thumb used that moment as an excuse to slip beneath the hem of Din’s shirt. The single point of contact almost burned his bare skin. Din sucked in a sharp breath, a shiver tearing down his spine. His helmet skidded along Paz’s as he twisted his head and looked at that hand. Which was a mistake, he realized swiftly, as it put his ear right next to the modulator on Paz’s helmet. 

“So,” that deep, low voice rumbled. His thumb pressed harder, digging into Din’s hip bone. “You in?”

This was absolutely a horrible idea. 

“Yeah,” Din said, breathless in the wake of his own stupidity. “I’m in.”

“Good.” Paz’s pleasure turned his voice into a purr. He turned his head and called out to the others, “I’ll go first. You two warm up.”

“Wait, what—”

Paz’s thumb was quickly joined by the entirety of his hand, his shirt rising until it was rucked up beneath his armpits. Din’s concerns sputtered into a choked hiss as Paz’s other hand yanked at his belt, his intentions clear. Din grasped at Paz’s south-bound wrist. Paz let out a sigh and looked at him. “What?” 

It took a lot of effort and control not to sputter. Din bared his teeth and forced it to come out as a snarl as he hissed, “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Touching you. Have you not done this before?”

Din dug his fingertips into Paz’s armored wrist. “Usually a person  _ asks  _ before shoving their hand down someone’s pants. I’m already in my underclothes. Level the playing field, Paz.”

A crackle of static spelled out Paz’s consternation. He removed his hand from Din’s hip but conspicuously left the one partially down his waistband. “Fine,” he said, tone clipped, head cocked. He moved his hand to his belt and unbuckled it deftly. “Fair is fair, right?” he added as he pulled out his cock and held it for Din’s perusal. 

Tried to, at any rate. The moment Din realized what he was doing, he turned his head away, heat flaring up to stain his cheeks until he worried he’d melt his visor. Bare skin was… It wasn’t prohibited within their rules and mandates, but it tended to be reserved for private moments between spouses or lovers. To see Paz like this— to let any of them see  _ him  _ like this… The intimacy of the moment suddenly coalesced around him. Din bit down on his bottom lip as the hand partially in his pants began to move again; Din let it, gasping as cool air touched his overly hot skin. 

“There you are,” Paz crooned, pulling Din free from his trousers with an almost gentle touch. That was nearly as surprising as how carefully he began to stroke it, teasing it from semi-softness to full hardness with just a few teasingly light pumps. Din resisted the urge to moan. It had been too long since he’d last taken the edge off. He hadn’t expected to see any action like this for awhile. Definitely not until he had left the planet, maybe found a cantina that didn’t try to boot him out on sight. 

Paz’s grip tightened around his shaft. Din looked up, on edge as the man rumbled, “Not going to look at me? That’s fine.”

There was something in his voice that sent warning bells ringing through Din’s head. Before he could figure out what Paz was thinking, the hand stroking him let go completely. The shock of cool air around his heated flesh elicited a hiss and a wince. Paz bent his knees, hands dragging down Din’s thighs and taking his pants with him. Din stumbled backwards, trousers caught around his boots, and Paz laughed. His hands circled Din’s thighs. For the barest hint of a moment, Din thought that touch was to stabilize him—and maybe initially it was—but then those hands tightened and Paz  _ lifted  _ him off his fucking feet _.  _

It was a strange sensation, obviously. Din had never considered himself small in his life, but hoisted up by his thighs like this, each leg thrown over one of Paz’s massive arms, it was hard to feel anything but diminutive. It didn’t seem to take any effort at all for the man to hold him, to lift him like a sack and carry him to the wall. Cold rock struck his back and Din sucked in a breath that definitely carried through his helmet. Paz laughed quietly. 

“Wouldn’t be very relaxing if you have to do the work, right?” Paz offered, his line of sight directed solely at their cocks. Din looked anywhere but there. Tried to, at least. Paz was… unfortunately in proportion, even down there. It was intimidating. If Din thought about it too hard, it might even give him some kind of complex about his own size. 

But that was Paz, wasn’t it? Always throwing his weight around, always looming and making you feel every single inch of the height difference between you. It figured that it’d be no better now than it was any other time they butted heads. 

“You can’t keep using that as your excuse,” Din said a bit erratically, hindbrain caught between the urge to struggle and the urge to remain as still as possible in case Paz decided to drop him. He settled on squirming while he tried to do the impossible and glare at Paz and while still paying attention to where his hands were straying. 

“What excuse?” Another bump to Din’s helmet. The gesture would be overly affectionate in any other context, but with Paz, Din only felt patronized. 

“Every time you wanna throw your weight around—” he tried, the fight in his voice dying an ignoble death as Paz rocked their erections together, the friction eased by the copious amounts of slick gathering along their tips. Din tried not to gasp at the stimulation. “You… You can’t keep spinning it as if it's just for my benefit.”

“How about you just keep complaining, Djarin, and we’ll see how long it lasts.”

“How about you—” Din lost his train of thought in favor of scrambling for Paz’s shoulders as the man shifted suddenly, one hand disappearing out from under him. While Paz didn’t seem to struggle under his weight, the lack of support sent waves of unease rolling in the pit of Din’s stomach. He clung to him tighter and stiffened when he heard the sound of a cap opening just out of sight.

“Need some help with that?” Xets offered helpfully. Din glanced over and found the man lingering behind Paz.

Paz grunted. “Get my glove off,” he said, and Xets dutifully moved to do just that. Din craned his neck to see what was going on just below his line of sight. Paz turned his head and met his eye. “Curious?” he teased, leaning forward to bump their helmets together. The move would read as affectionate or comforting if it weren’t for the fact that it forcibly angled Din’s visor away from what was going on just out of sight. 

“What are you planning, Paz?” Din asked flatly, stomach alight with nerves even as his cock twitched. 

“There, you’re all set,” Xets chimed, his words followed by the sound of something being closed. “Have at it.”

“Thanks,” Paz returned, eyes never leaving Din’s. The hand supporting his weight tightened, and that was the only warning Din got before something brushed his ass. Something  _ wet.  _

Din stiffened and flinched away, but Paz’s grip was too strong to break like this. The sensation of warm, bare fingers slipped between the cleft of his ass, slick with what had to be oil. “Oh, relax,” Paz huffed, working one thick, calloused finger against his entrance until the tip slipped inside. “You act like you’ve never done this before.”

Inhaling harshly, Din shuddered as the finger worked itself deeper. Paz had very large hands. “How do you… know I have?” he bit, head tipping back against his will as that finger crooked, in and out, fucking him with only slightly more consideration than he expected from a man holding him off the floor. 

Paz snorted, barely pausing as a second finger prodded at the ring of muscle around the first. “Would you have agreed to this if you hadn’t?” His middle finger slid inside with slightly more resistance than the first, but Din let out a breath and kept himself relaxed, the burn fanning the embers already smoldering in the pit of his belly. “Oh, yes, that’s it. You take it so well, Din. You’re an old hand at this, aren’t you? No wonder you spend so much time off-world. Bet you’ve got a reputation out there. Satisfaction guaranteed, right?”

“Sh-Shut up,” Din gritted, gripping Paz by the pauldrons as he slowly lifted himself to meet Paz’s hand. The wet glide of his cock against Paz’s was mind-numbing, sending sparks of pleasure down his spine. “Hurry up.”

“Impatient.” Paz added a third finger that did a little more than burn, putting Din’s supposed experience into question. He wasn’t a virgin by any means, but it had been awhile. Despite Paz’s words, the reality of it all wasn’t so indulgent. There weren’t many out there he could trust to see him like this, to render him defenseless long enough to get off in any meaningful way. Din closed his eyes and savored it while he could. Paz really did have such strong hands. He could easily see himself getting off to this alone if given enough time. 

But that wasn’t the name of the game this time, was it? There were two other men in the room with them, after all, and Din had no illusions that this was going to be anything but quick, hard, and filthy. Not that he was complaining. He’d take what he could get when it was this freely offered. 

Almost as if in response to his thoughts, Paz began to remove his fingers. A punched, weak groan broke its way free from the seal of Din’s lips. A laugh answered him. “Cute,” it said as Paz brought that hand between them, coating his cock in the oil glistening against his dark skin. Din stared. A big hand and an even bigger dick: How was that going to fit inside him?

Paz let out a self-indulgent growl as he touched himself, his scarred knuckles brushing against Din’s reddened cock like a tease. “Think you can take it?”

Indignation burned hotter than his disquiet; Din bared his teeth behind his helmet and snarled. “Hurry the fuck up, Vizla. I’m getting bored.”

“That’s what I thought you’d say,” Paz chuckled, lifting Din a few inches higher as he angled his cock between Din’s legs. The thick, burning tip ran a line along his cleft, brushing the underside of his balls before circling his twitching entrance. “Make it a good show, yeah? You’ve got an audience to impress on top of me.”

The reminder was unneeded but effective. Din sucked in a breath as he glanced towards the two others behind Paz. They were definitely watching intently, Xets outwardly palming himself through his trousers. “Then you better put your back into it,” he rasped, bearing down on Paz’s waiting cock. “Don’t disappoint me.”

Paz dropped Din an inch, the head of his cock pressing inside. Din shuddered and let out a weak, wounded yelp. “Oh, I’ll do a lot better than that,” he promised, his voice gone hot and rough with the pressure. His other hand returned to Din’s hip. It made it easier for him to control Din’s progress as he speared him in one long, gradual drop. 

Behind his helmet, Din’s mouth fell open. It’d been too long, he realized, to be so goddamn cocky about this. Din felt every single inch of Paz’s cock as it pressed its way inside. The burn tore through him first, followed swiftly by an almost insurmountable pressure. Din wheezed, sweating and shaking, and held Paz around the neck tight enough to make the man grunt. 

“You know, when I said you were tense I hadn’t thought it was this bad,” Paz hissed, the grip on Din’s hips tightening as he let gravity drive Din down. “Stop clenching already!”

Din couldn’t speak. He settled on thumping Paz’s pauldron with a closed fist, ineffective but the best he could manage given the circumstances. He couldn’t help  _ but  _ clench, his body tightening and loosening, at odds with the overwhelming sensation of Paz buried so deep inside him. His mouth wouldn’t close, and there was a sharp, almost pained sound echoing off the inner walls of his helmet. Embarrassment threatened to overtake him when he realized it was coming from him. 

Too long. It’d been too long since he’d last done this, and he was paying for it in every way. 

“Sounds like you’re killing him, Vizla,” Xets offered up helpfully from the sidelines. Din hooked his chin over Paz’s shoulder and immediately regretted it when he saw the other Mandalorians were watching intently. Xets had sidled up next to Vox, leaning against the stout Mandalorian’s chest with his hand cupped between the man’s legs. Vox had an arm wrapped loosely around Xets’ waist. The bulge in his pants was visible from here. 

“I’m the one getting tortured,” Paz grunted, lifting Din an inch just to drop him back down again. Din, mouth already open, brain already gone to liquid, let out a punched howl and rutted against Paz’s cuirass. The cold beskar heated up quickly against his fevered skin. Paz moaned and did it again, working himself into a rhythm until he was fucking Din with an almost brutal intensity. 

Xets let out a shuddering breath of a laugh. “Sure,” he said, Vox’s hand straying towards his crotch to squeeze him. “Sounds positively painful.”

If Din had the breath to speak, he’d chime in with his own list of woes. Paz’s hands were bruising his hips, for starters. The firm glide of his armor against his dick was hardly satisfying, no friction to find on such a perfect piece of metal. His cock was so deep inside him that he couldn’t gain adequate oxygen. The list went on and on. But he couldn’t say any of it. Speech was a pipedream. The embarrassing moans would have to do. 

Paz’s helmet bumped the side of his, a dull thud as he shoved Din against the wall and used the newfound leverage to rut into him like some kind of beast lost to heat. “You like that, Din?” came the husky, rasped voice. “You like testing my control, wringing my cock like that? Knew you’d be like this, so fucking  _ tight—”  _ He rocked his hips forward with every ounce of his considerable weight, plastering Din between the wall and his unyielding armor. “Gonna make you come like this. You want that?”

Din scrambled at Paz’s armor. With his back braced he could rock himself down, meeting the next thrust hard enough to steal the breath from the both of them. They both groaned, Din’s decidedly sharper, higher pitched. Paz growled like a beast, almost angry in his intensity to move faster, harder, deeper. 

“Oh, you fucking tease,” he hissed, hitching Din’s thighs higher, putting every bit of his flexibility to the test as he tried to pin his knees on either side of his head. Din threw back his head, his helmet producing a dull thud as it struck the wall. “Maybe I shouldn’t let you come. I’ll mark you up and throw you to the others, let them get their turn before we give you yours. You want that, Din? You want to be our fucktoy, don’t you? Our communal… little… fucktoy—”

Din couldn’t think— He could only want. His sounds took on a pained edge, sharp and frantic. Paz’s hands tightened but couldn’t hide the way they were beginning to shake, his entire form rattling on every outward thrust. Din struggled to let go of a pauldron, to wriggle a hand between them to work himself off, but there was no time. Paz rammed into him hard enough to compress his lungs before letting out a low groan. Heat filled Din, followed by the sensation of something wet. Paz fucked his release deeper before pulling out, leaving Din trapped between a wall and his own throbbing arousal with nothing to show for it but a mess between his legs. 

“N-No,” Din whined, the word clunky and broken on his tongue. He thumped Paz’s shoulder with a weak hand, his body alight with shivers. He sagged against Paz’s chest, hanging limply when the force holding him to the wall lessened. It took away his leverage and any chance he had at rutting himself to completion against Paz’s annoyingly smooth armor. “More,” he wheezed. “Paz, you fucking ass.”

“Little slut,” Paz rumbled. In an obnoxious show of strength, Paz carried him away from the wall and deposited him on the floor in the dead center of the room. Din wheezed, managed to stand firm for a few moments before his traitorous legs made it clear that they wouldn’t be able to support him. Paz took him to the ground. Din fell onto his hands and knees, Vox coming up behind him as Xets crowded Paz near his head. 

“Think you worked him too hard?” Xets asked, nudging Paz with an elbow. 

“I don’t think I worked him enough,” came the breathless reply. Paz took a few steps back and leaned against the wall, panting heavily, his self-satisfied grin audible in his voice. “Maybe you should pick up where I left off. He’s desperate for it.”

Xets cupped Din beneath the helmet, tipping his hanging head up. “You want that, Din?” he asked in a low, sultry voice. Din, breathless already, felt his throat catch when that helmet pressed against his own, the gesture unmistakably sincere. “You want us to fuck you too?”

Speaking felt… impossible. There wasn’t enough air to go around. Din wheezed and panted, leaning heavily against Xets’ helmet. He tried to nod. Behind him, Vox took him by the hips and held him still. 

“That’s right, you want it,” Xets breathed, his head shifting as he looked between them. Din followed his line of sight just in time to see the man palming at the bulge in his trousers. “We’re gonna make you feel real good, Din. So good. Why don’t you help me out here?”

Din didn’t need to be told twice. He raised a hand while the other kept him upright, fumbling for the zipper. Xets hissed and bucked into his touch. Distantly, Din heard the quiet sounds of shifting fabric behind him. Vox then, probably getting himself comfortable as well. 

“Here,” Paz said in a low, quiet voice. A soft whistle and thud. He’d thrown something and Vox had caught it. A moment later, a cap opened. Din’s face burned like fire as he pulled Xets’ dick out of his pants and tried not to think about Vox slicking himself up. Xets’ helmet shifted, leaving Din to hold up his own head. The Mandalorian looked over him and let out a shuddery breath. 

“Damn, Vox,” he said, voice filled with open awe and a warmth that spoke of something more than simple camaraderie between them. “He’s really got you worked up. I’d be jealous if I wasn’t in the same boat.”

Vox, of course, said nothing. His reply came in a silent press against Din’s backside, the feeling of a cock—now something intimately familiar to Din—wet and heavy on his tailbone. Din gave in to the urge to glance over his shoulder. He bit off a choked huff; Vox was a stout guy, and it seemed that his dick followed that general motif too. It wasn’t as long as Paz’s. But it was thick. Very, very thick. 

Something struck the side of Din’s helmet with a soft, meaty thud. “Hey, pay attention,” Xets murmured, Din’s stomach twisting once he realized what had just hit him. He woodenly turned back to face Xets and found the man loosely stroking his cock, a wet smear blurring part of the view. “I know Vox is roguishly handsome but that doesn’t mean you gotta ignore me.”

A heavy, firm hand fixed itself to Din’s hip. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to look away. The blunt head of Vox’s cock slid wetly between his legs. Din shuddered at the cold touch of beskar as it flattened against the back of his thighs, along his bared back. Vox was heavy. His arms shook from the effort of supporting them both. 

Xets’ attention was fixed on Vox once more. His cock twitched in his gloved hand. “That’s right,” he said, voice husky with his growing lust. “Mount him, Vox. Let him feel it all over.”

A quiet hum sounded behind Din’s right ear. The head of Vox’s cock pressed against his loose entrance and drove forward, slow, steady, unrelentingly out of his control. Din’s mouth fell open. His eyes rolled back in his head. 

“Feels good, right? Oh, yeah, you fucking love it.” Xets pumped his cock slowly, line of sight locked on the Mandalorian bent over Din’s back. “Doesn’t talk much but he doesn’t need to. Not with that behemoth between his legs, huh? So fucking thick. You like it? Say you like it, Din. Tell him how good you feel.”

Vox slowed as if responding to the words. He ground in with excruciating patience, dragging every inch until Din couldn’t even begin to think of anything beyond the friction, the intense stretch. Din braced his shaking arms and choked out a broken, “Yeah.” A moan followed it, then a squeak. “Fuck,” he wheezed, clawing at the stone beneath his hands. If Paz had been an onslaught, this was a war of attrition. “So good. Please. More. I love it.”

“Yeah, yeah you do.” Xets came closer, gripping Din beneath the chin to rock angle his helmet higher. His cock was wet, slick, and it left another streak over Din’s visor as he rubbed himself against the armor. “You’re so fucking grateful he’s fucking you. He’s being generous, isn’t he? Fucking you like this when you need it so much. Are you thankful, Din?”

“Yes,” Din groaned, nuzzling Xets’ cock. 

“Then say it,” the Mandalorian ordered. “Say thank you.”

“Thank you.”

“Say ‘thank you, Vox.’”

Din didn’t even hesitate. “Thank you, Vox.” 

Kriff, it was like being fucked by a machine. So steady, mechanical. Vox gripped his hips tightly and pounded like a piston, each thrust knocking Din forward, brushing the head of Xets’ cock. He could feel Vox’s gratitude bleed through their connection, slicking the already wet way. 

“So good for us, Din,” Xets kept saying, breath labored but the words spilling out like he couldn’t keep them contained. “You needed this, didn’t you? Needed someone to fill you up and work you until you couldn’t fight it. Paz fucked you open for us, gave us this treat. You should thank him too. He’d love to hear it.”

Oh, fuck. Din had nearly forgotten about Paz. He twisted his head and saw the man leaning against the wall, as casual as could be. His arms were loosely crossed, his posture and body language reading as relaxed, maybe even bored, but his gaze… His gaze could be felt through his blacked out visor. Din shuddered and wondered if he liked what he saw. He had to, right? He’d orchestrated this whole thing. He’d wanted this before Din even knew he’d be interested. 

Vox thrust in hard, jostling Din and skidding him an inch across the floor. Din let out a choked cry. Xets tapped his visor lightly with the length of his cock. “What do you say, Din?” he repeated, voice firmer, more insistent. “Be polite.”

“That’s right, Din,” echoed Paz from across the way. His voice was so low, smoky. “Be polite.”

The sense memory of that voice so close to his ear was too fresh, too potent. Din’s cock let out a rush of precome and his arms buckled. “Th… Thank you, Paz.” It wasn’t steady, but that was fine. Neither was Din right now, and he didn’t think anyone here expected him to be. 

“You’re very welcome, Din.”

The second he had the ability to punch, Din’s fist had a date planned with Paz’s groin. His boot too. Maybe even the butt of his rifl— 

A gauntleted hand reached beneath Din and grabbed him by the cock. Din let out a sound that sounded closer to a squeak than anything threatening. Vox squeezed in a way that was probably meant to be reassuring, but only served to further scatter Din’s thoughts like birdshot. Xets gave a knowing laugh.

“Close?” he asked, but not to Din. His focus was solely on Vox, an entire conversation hidden in the depths of that one word. Xets’ hand pumped his cock fast, and belatedly Din realized Vox’s hand was moving in time with it. Caught between them like this, Din couldn’t help but feel like some kind of toy, some shared recipient of each other’s attention as they played havoc with his body the way they might with one another. Xets painted another streak on Din’s helmet. He laughed low in his chest and threw back his head. “Aw, me too, Vox. Me fucking too.”

Din hissed as Vox’s hand tightened. The thrusts came faster, firmer. Xets matched it without a thought. Din shuddered and groaned. He was a toy to them. A game they both knew too well to drag out any longer than they already had. 

When Xets came, he did so with a guttural sound that simply emphasized the filthiness of the situation. Din closed his eyes as white streaked his visor view, sticking messily to the surface until he was looking up at the Mandalorian through a smear of white-tinted slick. Xets’ hand never stopped pumping, milking himself dry, his body jackknifing forward as he curled himself over Din’s head and made the most of the situation while he could. 

“Oh, fuck, oh, fucking  _ yes,”  _ he wheezed, somehow still talking even as Vox punched the breath from Din’s lungs with every punishing thrust. “Fuck him hard, Vox. Let’s coat him all over.”

“That’s— Th—” 

Din couldn’t get out what that was. Every time he tried there came another knee-sliding, lung-emptying thrust from behind, too hard and too dominating to allow him the luxury of coherent thought, let alone space enough to spit out a few choice complaints. Vox kept making noise though, soft, heady little grunts that seemed to speed up with the pace. Din closed his eyes. His mouth lolled open. His cock twitched once, his thighs tightening, his belly seizing as— 

Din lost himself in the hanging thread of a silent cry, there one moment and gone the next. His body rippled and his head hung heavy, coated in seed and staining the ground as he added to the mess in rhythmic spurts. Vox made a sound, some kind of scratchy, gnarled  _ howl,  _ and then Din found something else to groan over. 

Inside. Just like Paz, Vox had done it inside him. 

Above him, Vox and Xets met to press their helmets together. Unlike before, with Din, they made the contact last, a lingering show of affection that spoke of something much stronger than whatever whim it was that guided them to this room today. Din gave them privacy despite the sheer absurdity of the situation, burying his own head in his folded arms. His heart hammered at a tempo that couldn’t be healthy, his lungs burning as if he’d taken a sip from the Armorer’s molten forge. Pleasure sang down his spine as slick, hot trails of come coated his inner thighs. He scrubbed his visor against his sleeve. He’d need a sonic for sure after this. Maybe three. 

Of course, he couldn’t daydream about the thought for long. Vox shifted and everything gave a horribly wet sounding squelch as he pulled out, leaving Din overstimulated and overwhelmingly empty in the span of an ill-planned inhale. He choked a little and collapsed without the Mandalorian’s support on his hips, falling sideways in a crumpled heap. His pants were a lost cause around his ankles, his torso equal parts freezing and overheated depending on where his rucked up shirt managed to cover. Din took in a shuddery breath.  _ “Fuck,” _ he dragged out, glaring impotently up at Xets. Vox may have done the deed but all blame felt squarely placed on Xets’ shoulders. 

But Xets just laughed, breathless and a little sex-stupid, as he put away his spent cock and stretched his arms behind his head with luxurious ease. “Exactly,” he groaned, lowering his arms once he was thoroughly comfortable. His hands fell to his thighs, his knees bending as he lowered himself into a loose squat at Din’s side. “And you were wonderful, Djarin. Absolutely decadent.”

Din made a rude gesture with his hand. Xets just laughed some more. The Mandalorian turned to the side, and Din followed his line of sight to find Vox already squared away too. It was a little unfair how composed they both looked after all of that. Like nothing had even happened. 

Then again, maybe that was just another perk of full beskar. 

“How was he, Vox?” Xets asked, his smile more than readable in the jaunty tilt of his helmet. “Did you have a good time?”

Vox kept quiet as he approached Din’s sprawled form. His bootfalls were heavy, weighty, but he moved with grace as he crouched down and picked up one of Din’s hands from the ground. Din let him, heart stuttering a little as the Mandalorian brought his knuckles to his forehead in a chaste show of affection. How he could be  _ chaste  _ of all things was… 

“Aw, Vox,” Xets purred, voice soft and sincere. He reached out a hand and snagged Din’s empty one, mirroring the gesture to Din’s utter horror. “I like him too.”

“Wh— That’s—” Din’s tongue wouldn’t cooperate with his intentions, but that was probably more to do with his lack thereof than anything on their part. He let them pull him into a sitting position and closed his thighs as best he could, shirt falling down to offer him a smidgen of modesty. “Thanks?”

“Oh, no,” Xets insisted, finally letting go of Din’s hand. The leer in his voice was thick and heady as he braced a hand on Vox’s shoulder and coaxed the man to stand up with him. “Thank  _ you.”  _

Speechless, Din flushed. Xets chuckled and turned to look at Paz against the wall. “We’ll be off then. Feel free to call if you’re in need of a few extra pairs of hands, yeah?”

Paz dropped the foot he’d kicked up against the wall and nodded, crossed arms loosening as he took in Din. “Of course. May we meet again.”

“May we meet again,” Xets echoed, lacing arms with Vox. He looked down at Din. “May we meet again, Din Djarin.”

Din echoed the sentiment. Vox inclined his head, and then they were off, making for the door with perfect harmony in their steps. Din watched them go. The door opened; the door closed. Din stiffened. He was alone now. Alone with Paz and no one else, just like how this had all begun. 

“I bet you feel proud of yourself,” he said when it was clear Paz wasn’t going to speak first. Woodenly, Din turned his head and looked at Paz. 

“Generally,” Paz accepted gracefully, if maddeningly. “And you, Djarin? How do you feel?”

Din grimaced. “Sticky,” he said, tone clipped. “Sore. Weak.”

“Relaxed?”

A pause. Din glared at the wall, overcome by the smugness radiating off Paz. He did feel relaxed. His body was loose in a way it rarely was, and he was sure as soon as his limbs stopped quaking he’d find them primed for the job ahead. His undersuit was a lost cause, but he could always get it replaced easily enough. But giving Paz the satisfaction? That was a price he wasn’t willing to pay. 

A low crackle of a sigh sounded above his head. Paz closed the distance between them and sank into a crouch. Even then, he still towered over him. Din couldn’t bring himself to stiffen at the proximity. He did, however, huff as Paz touched him. His hand was a warm, heavy weight on the back of his neck. Paz squeezed once. “Glad to be of service,” came the quiet, self-satisfied reply to the question Din refused to answer. “Let’s do it again sometime, Djarin, next time you’re planet-side.”

“Fuck off,” Din grunted, hating how he leaned into the touch. 

Another squeeze. “Never change.” Paz laughed under his breath and let go, and Din struggled not to slump without the support. But not for long. Paz’s hand came under his chin next, tipping his head up to bump their helmets briefly. “Djarin.” There was a tone of parting in how he said his name. The gesture held all the words he wouldn’t say. That was fine. 

Din sighed. “Vizla.” Paz’s fingers stroked the plane of metal covering his cheek as he rose to full height and pulled away. Din sucked on his tongue and watched the Mandalorian move towards the door. His gait was confident if loose, shoulders relaxed and fluid beneath his beskar. Din propped both hands beneath him and lifted himself a little higher. Before Paz could disappear out the door, Din lost the battle to hold back his tongue. 

“Okay,” he said, stalling Paz at the threshold. Din’s face felt uncomfortably warm, his skin uncomfortably tight. “To your offer. Let’s do it again.”

Paz didn’t bother to look at him. His shoulders hitched as he began to laugh. “Whatever you want, Din,” he said, shaking his head as he disappeared into the hall. “A promise.”

Din would hold him to that— Just as soon as he figured out how to hold his body upright, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> woot and there you have it, another gangbang entrance to a new fandom. if you liked that, feel free to leave a comment to let me know! and hey, i kinda do this for a living so if you wanna see what i get up to when im not writing fic definitely check out my website over on tdcloudofficial.com! lots of fun goodies over there. thanks for reading! until next time!

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Pin](https://archiveofourown.org/works/26890783) by [bluebells](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluebells/pseuds/bluebells)




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